


Dave’s pretty comfortable. You guess.

by stridaves



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-29
Updated: 2012-10-29
Packaged: 2017-11-22 08:24:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/607802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stridaves/pseuds/stridaves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>john is an angsty dumb teen</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dave’s pretty comfortable. You guess.

Dave’s pretty comfortable. You guess.  


You two have been on the couch for a while now; with no Bro around, Dave and you have been able to waste the day away gaming and watching movies. Or, at least, you watched movies. He just made snarky comments, shooting you sly looks, the douche. Well, he was doing that, until he fell asleep.  


On your shoulder.  


Which leads to where you are now.  
He took his shades off to be able to see the TV screen clearly, so his face his pressed against the crook of your neck. His hair his splayed out along your jaw, and when his breath ghosts over your neck his hair tickles you a little, too. His warm pressure out your side is constant, steady, reassuring. If you sit still enough, you can feel the soft thud, thud, thud, of his heartbeat, slow in slumber.  


You realize you’re paying more attention to Dave than you are the movie. All at once, you become hyper-aware of all the places he’s touching you. How his leg is pressed against yours, arms resting comfortably around your waist, almost as if he’s holding you.  


When did that happen?  


You want to fall asleep, then and there. You want to lean into him, bury your face in his hair, hold him like he’s holding you, make him feel safe.  


But… you can’t.  


You can’t, and you hate yourself for not having the courage to do anything. You feel regret, guilt, and maybe even a little anger boiling in your stomach, and you want out. You want to be away from him, you hate the way your skin tingles where he’s touching it, and carefully, you pull away from his loose hold.  


“Mmm, John?”  


No, shit!  


You freeze where you are, positioned to get up from the couch, leaning away from him. He bends to crack his back, and attempts to rub the sleep away from his eyes. When he glances up at you, his brow furrows. “Where’re you goin’?”  


“Uhm, no where?” Right. You suck at lying.  


He frowns, and glances at the indent from where you were sitting before, and you can hear the gears turning in his head. “Oh…sorry. Did I latch onto you or something? I, um, do that. Sometimes. Yeah, sorry.”  


You’re not sorry. He shouldn’t be sorry either, and you want to tell him that. Instead, you force a smile. “It’s fine, dude! So, are we going to sleep here?”  


The still flickering TV illuminates Dave’s face as he brings up his wrist to check his watch, lazily scratching the back of his neck before responding. “Might as well. It’s almost four.” He gives you a skeptical look before continuing. “Were you awake this entire time?”  


Yes. You were, and you loved feeling Dave sigh against you, unconsciously move closer to you, and the way his hair danced across your chin.  
“No, I just woke up. You were strangling me so I moved away.” Your grin feels unnatural.  


He looks at you a moment longer before shrugging. “All right, man, whatever. So, c’mere.” He pats the space next to him, moving over slightly to make room for you.  


You stare in blank confusion. “…what?”  


He rolls his eyes, obviously still tired and unwilling to voluntarily explain anything. “You were a hella comfortable pillow, and fuck you if you think I’m giving that up.” He pats the spot again more forcefully, and you make your way over more slowly than you’d left.  


Once you’re situated, he snuggles into you again, long arms wrapping around your bicep, eyelashes giving butterfly kisses to the side of your neck.  


You let out a slow breath. “Dave, I can’t.”  


His head pulls back so he can look at you, but otherwise he stays locked in place. “Huh?”  


“I can’t be your pillow or whatever.”  


His grip on you tightens a tiny amount. “Why not?”  


You shrug, jostling him in the motion. “I…it’s weird! And uncomfortable. And. Stuff. And I…” You shrug again.  


He raises his eyebrows, waiting for you to continue. When you don’t, he sighs, and gives your arm a reassuring squeeze. “You…?”  


Well, now or never. What’s the worst that could happen?  


You could lose your best friend.  


The way that things are going now, you could also go crazy if you don’t tell him.  


“…I can’t be close to you because it…makes me feel. Kind of. Funny.”  


“I make you feel funny.”  


You avoid his gaze completely. “Yeah.”  


He lets you of you, and your arm feels much too cold. “Sorry,” he says in a deadpan voice. He stares straight ahead, mouth set in a straight line, but with his lack of shades, you can tell he’s hurt.  


You backtrack. “No, no! Not in a bad way! Like, all, uh, I don’t know!” You huff, angry with yourself for your lack of vocabulary. “What do they call them? Uh, butterflies?”  


Dave turns his head sharply to the side, eyes wide. “Butterflies? Like, what, butterflies in your stomach?”  


You take a deep breath, willing your nerves to stop shaking. “Yeah. You, um. Give me butterflies. The nervous, good kind.”  


“John, are you trying to confess your undying love for me?” Your cheeks heat up, and normally you would’ve laughed, but you stay silent, eyes dropping down and teeth worrying at your lip. Dave whisperers a quiet, “Oh.”  


You feel your heart plummet, and now he’s moving again, moving away from you, you’re sure, you blew it, it’s all over…  
…but, wait. Is he moving closer to you?  


You risk a glance up, and resist the urge to flinch back at his sudden close proximity. You can see his eyes, so, so red, and scared, looking at you like you’re a beautiful bird he doesn’t want to scare off. His movements are slow, giving you all the time in the world to back off, to say you don’t want this, but you stay frozen, mouth parted open slightly, gaze locked with his.  


The contact between your eyes breaks when both of you close them, his lips meeting yours, and all the warmth and butterflies you’ve ever felt while getting fleeting touches from him come back to you tenfold. The kiss is exhilarating, new, exciting, but still warm and comfortable.  


Too soon it’s over, but you don’t care. Not really. Not as long as Dave stays where he is, tucked in the crevice of your neck, lips fluttering along your jaw, arms wrapping around your waist.  


Yeah, Dave’s pretty comfortable.


End file.
